


Crawl for me

by Zigrat



Category: Rammstein
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Consensual Kink, Humiliation, Inspired by Mein Teil, Leashes, M/M, Paris 2017, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, crawling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigrat/pseuds/Zigrat
Summary: Inspired by the Paris 2017 performance. Richard has a secret, and Till doesn't know when to leave well enough alone. This leads to good things. Totally a PWP.





	Crawl for me

**Author's Note:**

> This... got quite a bit longer than intended. They just refused to stop! Dedicated to Z., who encourages me to write filthy things ❤

Till could have let it go. Honest. If it had been anyone else but Richard, he would have.

It all came together in Paris, when they were recording the live and knew they needed to go all-out this time. Give the audience every trick they had and then some, invent something new and disturbing, something that would look good on film. Someone came up with the idea of an updated version of Bück Dich. Frau Schneider was remarkably enthusiastic about the performance, and the others agreed with a cackle of laughter. Repeating the scene from the Mein Teil video, where they all crawled before the lady like a pack of dogs? That would be something to do live, all right.

The only one who wasn’t into it was Richard.

“We need someone to man the keyboard,” he said quietly, when they were going on about the particularities of this set-up, all coming up with ideas.

“Flake can do that,” Till said with a shrug.

“Sure,” Flake said, though he looked a bit disappointed. Till knew the man was fond of doing crazy shit on stage. So did Richard.

“You go and have fun, you know you want to,” Richard countered. “It’s practically your signature song by now, anyway.”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you...” Flake was quick to take Richard up on the offer.

But Till was curious. Call it a fault in his character, he never could leave well enough alone.

“Richard, are you saying you won’t do this?” Till asked. “Really?”

“No.” The guitarist’s face remained impassive. That was a flat-out refusal if Till ever heard one.

“You did it for the video.”

“So what?”

Till raised an eyebrow at that. It seemed he could get nothing out of the man, no explanation.

“Till, if he doesn’t want to do it, he doesn’t.” Paul interrupted a perfectly good chance for further interrogation with his damnable good sense. “It’s not like we need Richard for it, anyway. It’ll look just as good without him.”

Richard looked like he wanted to say something to that, and Till felt the urge to laugh.

“Well, looks like you’ll get the smaller stage all to yourself then,” Schneider said. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I will,” Richard said, but there was something off about it. Till couldn’t put his finger on it.

Till could understand how it would be different in front of an audience of thousands, where there was no protective barrier of the camera lens between you and the public. Richard was also a sucker for dramatics, though, for all he went on about music being important above everything else.

He’d never minded stuff like this before, had been quite willing to let Till crawl on his knees during Heirate Mich, even fisted a hand in his hair and looked affectionately at the singer’s bloody face. Till probably remembered that a bit too well, Richard’s cheek brushing against his as he bent down to growl in the same mic, the stains of silver paint left on Till’s face. Years ago, now. All right, he had a thing for the man, but he’d be damned if he’d ever let him know that. Richard was insufferable as it was.

Till shrugged the thought out of his mind. It wasn’t his problem. Richard could be obstinate when he wanted to. Perhaps he had found his artistic integrity or some shit. And if this was about something else, Till would puzzle it out later.

Everything proceeded according to plan. There were more difficult elements to deal with in the Paris show than this bit of performance. It hardly even required any props. When the collars arrived, they were especially pleasing, made of thick black leather with a hoop at the back so that the leash could be attached and removed easily. Till tried one on for size. Yes, it felt good and sturdy.

“There’s five of them,” Olli pointed out. “One extra.”

“Why? Shouldn’t Richard be wearing one as well?” Schneider asked while examining his wig. Apparently it wasn’t as good as the one they had used for the shoot. “You’re all supposed to be my bitches, after all.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” said Richard, who was busy tuning a guitar Till didn’t think needed it.

Now that was a bit much.

“It’s not like you haven’t worn one before,” Till said, unable to resist the urge to prod. “On numerous occasions.”

“Well, not this time.” The guitarist shot him a glare. Then he turned his attention to the flowery number Schneider was supposed to wear. “Hey Schneider, you’ll look like someone’s grandma in this dress!”

The drummer flipped him off. The discussion floundered, and Till couldn’t breach the topic he was most curious about. Why was Richard so hung up on this? And why was Till, for that matter? Well, self-examination could wait. The point was that Richard was acting strange, and there was bound to be a reason for it.

The concert exceeded expectations. Doing something with so many pyros and moving parts required tremendous concentration, while the fire from the crowd threatened to swallow him whole. Till never remembered very much of the concerts afterwards. The high you got tended to melt everything together into a blur of noise and fire. But he did remember Bück Dich – and so would everyone else.

Schneider was completely immersed in his role, theatrical yet dangerous, ridiculous yet frightening. It was a long crawl on the bridge on his knees which would not thank him later. The noise from the crowd was deafening as the lights turned on them. And though Till played his part of an unruly dog with relish, let himself be pulled about and whacked with the cane, pretended to fall down to get more of the same, he kept his eyes on the small stage.

Richard’s fingers moved mechanically on the keys, but he stared at the pack of dogs as they reached the end of the walkway and entered his field of vision. There was something on his face under the revealing lights – a naked look gone in a flash. Richard held his cool as Paul was kicked down the stairs and fell beautifully, as they all crawled to their places, as Schneider threatened him with the cane. Till had his own part to play, but a glance told him how flustered Richard was. Sweat threatened to wreck his perfect make-up. His eyes strayed like he didn’t know where to look. Till stored that image for later and snapped back into focus, to the more traditional part of the performance which would turn it from disturbing into parody.

After the show they were a tired mess of sweat and dirt and wide grins. Everything had worked flawlessly, and the audience ate it up. A few drinks at the hotel bar and everyone but Till and Richard were ready to call it a night.

Till stared into his glass in that semi-lucid state caused by exhaustion and adrenaline, where the whole world opened up like a book and he could understand everything. Things written in this mood usually turned out to be gibberish in the morning. Now he felt that spike of divine inspiration where everything crystallized into an understandable whole.

Richard’s skittishness about the performance, the way he seemed to be drawn to it nevertheless, the look on his face under the merciless lights – it had looked a lot like longing. Why not do it, then? But maybe this wasn’t quite what he wanted. Or he simply didn’t want it at all. Hell, what did Till know? Seeing depths where there were none. He’d leave off. After one last try...

“Richard,” Till said quietly. Richard regarded him over the brim of his glass. “Would you crawl for me?”

Richard almost choked on his whiskey.

“What the fuck?” he coughed. “What kind of a question is that?”

“One I’d like answered.”

“Didn’t you get enough of that today?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“What?” Richard looked weary, pissed off, and ready to bolt.

“Richard”, Till repeated slowly. “Would you crawl for me _alone_?”

Richard downed his drink in one go. The flush on his face could be blamed on alcohol, but Till didn’t believe it for a moment. So this was it. Something Richard didn’t want dragged into the light.

“I hate you,” Richard said. At least he knew when he was caught.

“Because I would definitely be up for it.” Till met Richard’s eyes, knowing he was expecting mockery.

“If this is a joke, I’ll kill you”, Richard said after a tense silence.

He was the one to break it. Words. More words. Spilling out of Richard like someone had opened a dusty bottle long since forgotten in the cellar.

“I didn’t want it to be for show. I don’t want that. It’s only a game to you, something funny.”

“But you do want it.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just know that when you do something like this, it’s for laughs. And when I look at it, I see something else, wonder if everyone else is blind. And then remember that it’s just me.” A bitter smile twisted his mouth. “I should learn to laugh at myself more.”

“It’s not a joke to you.”

“No. I want it to feel real. I would want to. If it ever happened.” There was that look again, wishful, hard to resist, especially with Richard like this – hair shower-messy, eyes weary, bravado forgotten for a moment.

There it was, everything Till had wanted to hear. Now he knew. And felt like a bit of an idiot for pushing the other man, when he didn’t know what to do with this new secret.

Till stood up, weariness crashing on him all at once. He heard himself saying:

“Well, if you want it to happen, you know where to find me.”

  


* * *

  


Another night, another hotel. Till was about to call it a night when he got a text from Richard. _Come up. I have whiskey_.

A bit unexpected, but the offer was too good to resist. Richard’s room was a couple of floors above his. Till yawned as he waited for the elevator, too lazy to use the stairs. He was glad things seemed to have returned to normal after the awkward conversation he’d had with Richard.

Till knocked on the door.

“It’s open,” he heard Richard’s voice from the inside. He stepped in, closed the door behind him, and promptly froze in his tracks.

Richard was standing by the window, not looking at him, like he’d found something particularly fascinating outside. There was a table beside him, and on the table lay a collar like the ones they had used on stage. Seemed like Richard had kept his, after all. There was also a leash, a riding crop and a bottle of scotch. The bottle was almost full. Shit. The man wasn’t even drunk.

Till had thought Richard would do his utmost to forget their alcohol-inspired heart-to-heart. Apparently he had been wrong.

“Richard?” Till said. “What’s this?” He knew very well what it was. But though he had played idly with the idea, he’d never believed Richard would take him at his word.

Richard turned to face him. Bright spots of color bloomed on his cheeks. He run a hand through his hair, a habit which showed only when he was really nervous. His hair was not to be messed with.

“It’s a stupid idea,” Richard said. “Forget it.”

Till hadn’t forgotten. On the contrary, the image of Richard on his knees had haunted him for weeks, and in a not at all unpleasant way. He wasn’t about to let this chance pass.

“Oh no,” Till said and approached the table. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

Richard’s eyes flickered to meet his, angry and hopeful. A temptation hard to resist. Of course, same could be said of Richard in general. But Till sensed that he needed to tread carefully here. Find the right pace, the right words. Like writing a song.

Till took a swig from the bottle, since glasses were nowhere in sight.

“You really want to...” Richard’s sentence floundered, left floating in the air.

“Yes, I really,” Till said, trying to keep from smiling. The last thing he needed was Richard thinking he was laughing at him. “But I need to know what exactly _this_ is, and what it is you want.”

Richard pointed at the table. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I need a bit more than that. And I want you to say it out loud.”

Till could practically feel the frustration radiating off Richard. He was on the verge of telling Till to go fuck himself. That wouldn’t do. With a couple of steps Till was standing behind Richard, almost close enough for their bodies to touch. Richard flinched in surprise at this invasion of his space, but he didn’t move. Till laid two fingers on the nape of Richard’s neck, the barest hint of a touch, yet he felt how it made Richard stand up straighter.

“You don’t need to look at me while you tell me. What do you want, Richard?” He let his voice drop, soft and deep.

“I want...” Richard’s voice cracked. “I want the collar and the leash. I want you to make me crawl in front of you, to tell me what to do. I want not to be me for a while.”

Till stroked his fingers down Richard’s neck. He was playing this by ear, but it seemed to work. Richard bowed his head slightly.

“What’s it about for you? Pain, humiliation?”

“The latter. A bit of both,” Richard ground out. “I’m not really into pain. Only… sometimes.”

“Very good,” Till said into his ear. “What about sex?”

Richard tried to turn to look at him, but Till laid a hand on his throat and stopped him. He could feel Richard swallow.

“Tell me,” Till said, holding Richard trapped between his hand and his body. A flimsy hold, easy to shrug off.

“Yes,” Richard said in a low voice. “It can be about that, too.”

“Here, now?”

Richard nodded against Till’s hand.

“Okay,” Till said and took a step back, releasing Richard.

Richard looked drunk, swaying a bit at the loss of contact. He lifted a hand to touch his throat where Till’s hand had been.

“Don’t,” Till said. He was testing the waters, and Richard dropped his hand as if burned. 

Till collected his thoughts. Once again, this was all about Richard. But what Richard wanted was the exact opposite. A bit of a mindfuck, that, but not exactly surprising. There were opportunities here Till was willing to take full advantage of.

Till made his way to the table to take stock of his implements and caught Richard’s eyes again.

“Strip,” he said, like it was an everyday thing. “I want you naked except for your gloves and boots.”

Till watched Richard carefully, saw his hesitation and the spark of rebellion in his eyes. The previous moment’s magic had evaporated. Till was aware that this might turn ridiculous, and then Richard would call the whole thing off. Perhaps he should have started more carefully. But since when had they been careful with each other? He’d wanted to shock Richard, to make him uncomfortable. That was the point, after all.

Till took the leather collar, opened the clasp and made a show of examining it in the light. Richard’s eyes were immediately drawn to it.

“If you want this, you do as I say. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

For a moment Till wasn’t sure whether Richard’s pride would win, but then he lowered his eyes. He went to get the requested items first. Sensible. He must have thought this through, Till mused as he tested the riding crop in his hands. It was sturdier than it looked, there wasn’t much give. He tried it on his palm. It stung quite a bit. 

Till realized Richard was staring at him. He’d placed the boots on the floor, the gloves on the coach in the living room of the two-room suite. He hovered there, looking uncertain.

“Go on,” Till said.

Richard was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, nothing particularly hard to take off. Still it seemed to take a long time as he pulled the shirt over his head, inch after inch of pale skin revealed. There was nothing new in nakedness, they had known each other for ages. The situation made all the difference. Now Till had the freedom to look at his friend in another light – as someone desirable. The switch in perspective wasn’t difficult at all, and Richard’s slow stripping gave him time to appreciate the view. Socks first, bare feet oddly vulnerable on the carpet. Then Richard’s fingers were working on the buttons of his jeans. He pushed them down together with his underwear, like he was suddenly in a rush. He looked at Till, almost defiant.

“The boots and the gloves,” Till said impassively, though the sight of Richard naked in front of him, for him, threatened his concentration. He was more than a little turned on by the way Richard took to his orders.

Richard pulled on the gloves first, the red and black ones he used to favor these days. Then he lifted one foot on the couch to put on his boot. Till’s hand on his naked shoulder stopped him.

“Not like that. Bend down to put them on.”

Till saw the look of disbelief, felt the tension under his hand. Richard opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t. I don’t need words from you. You speak only when I tell you to.” That might be the hardest thing for Richard, who was always vocal in his opinions. It was also a test. They had come this far, but they would go much further still.

Richard closed his eyes for a moment. Till looked at him carefully. He didn’t seem afraid or really reluctant, only like he needed that last push. Till put a little weight on the hand which rested on Richard’s shoulder. And just like that, something gave.

Richard bent down to put on the boots. He fumbled with the laces, aware of what he must look like. Naked, with nothing to hide. Till felt a rush of arousal. Richard had done this on his command.

When he was done, Richard straightened up. He was quite a sight, face flushed and eyes bright, wearing only a pair of boots and the fingerless gloves. He was hard already. Till made a show of looking him up and down, enjoying the way Richard almost squirmed under his gaze. A change for a man who thrived on attention and liked being looked at. But it was always on his own terms. Now the rules were different.

“Not bad,” Till said, closing in on Richard again. He run his fingers around Richard’s neck, drawing an invisible collar with the lightest touch. It made the guitarist’s breath hitch. “I think you’ve earned this.”

He took the collar and fastened it around Richard’s neck. Richard made a little sound as the leather touched his skin, but he didn’t speak. It looked… right on him.

“Now,” Till said, his tone completely different. “On your knees.”

Richard’s knees hit the floor. There was no hesitation. He seemed surprised at his own reaction, unsure what to do with his hands. Till took a hold of his hair and tilted his head back.

“I know you,” he said coldly. “You haven’t done what you’re told in your life. I don’t think you can. You need to show me. Prove that you can take orders.”

Richard’s green eyes stared back at him. He was listening, for once. Apparently Till wasn’t fucking this up. He let go of Richard’s hair and pushed his head down.

“You’re no better than a dog. On all fours.”

Richard obeyed, though his face was flaming. Well, he’d asked for this, and now he was going to get it. Till took a firm hold of the collar.

“I’ve been told you’re good at crawling. Show me. To the bedroom and back to me.” He pointed at the open doorway between the rooms. They had just enough space for this. Of course, Richard had chosen the location.

Richard’s first steps were halting, graceless. He seemed painfully aware of himself, and it made him stiff and clumsy. Though he’d said he wanted it, his every move shouted reluctance. He made it to the center of the room before Till stopped him. The sudden pull at the back of the collar had Richard stumbling.

“What was that? Did you think that was good?” Till scoffed. He suspected Richard was playing him to find out what he’d do. Okay then. “You’re lucky I’m here to show you how it’s done.”

Richard glanced back at him, and his eyes were drawn to the crop in Till’s hand.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t use this? Eyes to the front.”

Richard was slow to obey. Without a warning, Till brought the crop down on Richard’s ass with a satisfying snap. Richard jerked at that, and Till was sort of glad he’d not turned away. He liked the surprised hurt which passed over Richard’s face. Still, he had given an order. Till pressed the head of the crop against Richard’s cheek and turned his head forward.

“It seems you need more direction.”

He made a show of correcting Richard’s posture. The crop trailed on his skin in a maddening caress. With a press of the crop he made Richard arch his back, show his ass to a better advantage. He dragged the crop along Richard’s spine and down the cleft of his ass, dangerously close to sensitive parts. Till brushed the crop down the insides of Richard’s thighs, urging him to open his legs wider. By then Richard was breathing hard, but he didn’t protest. The way he let Till arrange him to his liking was beautiful. So was the picture he made – head bowed, perfect ass on display, the collar a dark brand around his neck. The boots and gloves only made his nakedness more striking. 

As a finishing touch, Till pulled Richard’s head up by his hair. He took every opportunity to mess with it while he could.

“Look forward. You don’t get to hide from this.”

Till took a step back and took stock of his work. Good enough. Richard looked humiliated yet turned on. Till got why he hadn’t wanted to do this in front of an audience. There was a world of difference between this quiet intensity and pulling a stunt for a crowd. 

“Now let’s try that again. This time, do it like you mean it.”

And oh, did Richard crawl. He’d found some place inside him where pride or embarrassment didn’t stop him. His movements were slow and sinuous, his whole being radiated a focus which had been missing before. It should have looked more ridiculous than it did. Richard was good. Till followed one step behind as Richard made his way to the bedroom, let his steps be heard. Finally Richard couldn’t resist a glance back. He was immediately reprimanded by a snap of the crop on the inside of his thigh. He let out a hiss and stopped.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Till said. “Answer me.”

When Richard wasn’t quick enough to speak, Till brought the crop down on his ass a couple more times. The red, criss-crossing marks looked good on him. Everything showed easily on his pale skin.

“No,” Richard rasped out. “You didn’t.”

“Looks like you need someone to train you. Stay.”

Till walked past Richard like he was nothing and went to get the leash. Richard actually obeyed this time and didn’t turn to look. His whole body tensed as he heard the click of the leash being attached to the back of the collar. Till wound the leash around his hand until it was pulled taut. Still Richard didn’t move, though the collar must dig painfully into his skin.

“You may move. Follow my lead. Ahead of me, so I can see how badly you fuck this up.”

Richard didn’t fuck it up. They made it from the bedroom to the living room without him breaking posture once. He was a bit too good, Till thought. He turned his attention to Richard’s rather impressive erection which was swinging obscenely between his legs as he moved. Till tightened the leash, drawing a choking sound from Richard. He pulled Richard back until he was sitting on his heels, staring up at Till. Green eyes desperate for something, his back curved like a bow, hands resting on his thighs.

Till enjoyed the view, though he felt it could be improved. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but he knew they weren’t there yet.

“What’s this, then?” Till said. “Spread your legs wider.”

Richard did, without hesitation. The leash really did wonders to him. Till stared at Richard’s cock, jutting up from a nest of dark curls. Pretty like the rest of him, hard and begging for attention. Till smiled.

He touched the base of Richard’s cock with the crop. Richard jerked, looking pleadingly at Till. He trailed the crop up Richard’s cock in lazy circles and pressed the flat end against the top. Richard’s cock twitched at the touch. He was breathing hard, wound tight as a string.

“Till...” he said with a bit of warning in his voice.

Till let the crop snap up against his balls. Richard yelped and pressed his eyes shut. His thighs were trembling as Till caressed the abused flesh with the crop.

“What?” Till said pleasantly. “Did you have something to say?”

Richard could have protested, but he shook his head mutely. He was keeping his position. Being good, like he’d been told to. Till palmed his own cock through his pants. He’d been hard since he’d seen Richard on his knees in nothing but leather boots and gloves. Till noticed Richard staring at him, transfixed.

“Is this what you want? Is that what’s distracting you?”

Richard nodded, swallowing.

“Then you’ll have to earn it. Back to position.”

Richard was quick to bend forward and place his palms on the floor again. The back of his neck was damp with sweat. This time Till didn’t let him pick the pace. He dragged Richard along cruelly, taking brisk strides and daring Richard to try to keep up with him. Richard stumbled and coughed as the collar was pulled too tight. But he obeyed and he followed, and took Till’s remarks about his lack of grace with nothing but a deepening blush.

Till didn’t quite understand this need to be shamed, but clearly it was working for Richard. The more unreasonable his demands and the meaner his words, the better. It was clear Richard wanted to be set up to fail.

They made another quick turn, and Richard couldn’t follow in time. His shoulder collided with Till’s leg, and his arm went out under him. By some miracle he kept his balance. Till took a hold of his hair and turned his head up.

“You’re getting careless,” he said. “Cocky. Is this something to be proud of?”

Richard shook his head, though with Till’s grip on his hair, it had to hurt.

“Clearly this is too easy for you. One hand behind your back.”

Richard was starting to look desperate, but he put his left hand behind his back. Till pulled his arm back further, until Richard hissed as his shoulder protested.

“Good. Keep it there. Now we can go on.”

Richard was doomed, that was clear. Though he did his best to keep up with Till, it was almost impossible with only one arm taking his weight. He was breathing in short gasps, falling behind, and of course that made the pull of the leash more merciless, so he tried to crawl along as best he could. There was no trace of posture, only desperation, a will to please which didn’t let him stop. Always so stubborn, even in this.

Finally Till let Richard catch up with him and gave him the barest push with his foot, and he fell over on his side. He lay on the floor, his sides rising and falling rapidly, still kept tethered by the leash. His eyes were shut. When he opened them slowly, staring up at Till towering over him, some kind of calm seemed to have fallen over him. He seemed content to lay there and wait until the end of the world. Wait for the next command.

Till crouched down next to him. He let the leash fall slack.

“Richard? You still in there?”

For a moment Richard seemed to stare straight through him, but then his eyes focused and he nodded. He cleared his throat a bit.

“Yes. I’m here.”

The way he said them, the words seemed to mean something more. A thought for later.

“Good.” Till ruffled Richard’s hair, which he always claimed to hate. Now he only leaned to the touch. “We’re not done yet.”

Richard’s cock was still half-hard, and he remembered that fact as Till wrapped his hand around it. Soon Till had him panting again, and not for lack of oxygen. Richard bit at his lip, looking desperately up at Till.

“Are you going to come, is that what you’re trying to tell me? Answer.”

“Yes. Let me?”

Till had not told him not to, but he got the feeling Richard would be disappointed if he said yes. Besides, he wanted to see Richard suffer a little bit more. The man did it so well.

“No,” Till said and withdrew his hand. Richard let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t think it’s fair I’ve been doing all the work here. Come on, get up.”

Till walked him over to the bed and sat down, spreading his legs.

“On your heels again. Good. Now, I’m going to get comfortable and a lot more naked. You’ll have to wait...” A wicked thought made him smirk. “Or if you’re really desperate, you can always try to rub off against my leg. Your choice.”

Till hadn’t known it was possible for Richard to blush any deeper. He pretended not to show him any attention and started to work slowly on the buttons of his shirt. Richard swayed in place, undecided when given a choice. He wasn’t desperate enough to do it, Till was sure of that. But the idea might prove to be too tempting.

Sure enough, Richard shuffled closer on his knees, avoiding Till’s eyes. Till felt his cock warm and hard against his leg, thighs working as he tried to find enough friction to bring himself off. Till put one hand on the top of Richard’s head to push it down on his knee. His other hand shook a bit on the buttons. Richard was going to be the death of him. 

Till got his shirt off and opened his fly, freeing his achingly hard cock. Richard’s eyes zeroed in on it, inches away from his face. His movements had ceased.

“Like the view?” Till said. “Then do what you’re good at.”

A small tug on the leash and Richard was on him, between his legs, his mouth on his cock. Till let out a sigh as those too-clever lips worked on him, even better than he’d imagined. He tried half-heartedly not to buck up, but as the man only went to town on him with more enthusiasm, he started to fuck Richard’s mouth in earnest. He’d thought smudged eyeliner, a quick sweaty blowjob backstage. Instead he got something naked and raw which burned in Richard under all the careful layers. And fuck if it wasn’t catching.

Finally Till had to pull Richard off by the collar. Richard obeyed instantly. He looked delectably wrecked and red-lipped.

“Get on the bed,” Till said, and he was sure Richard made some kind of a record in how quick he was to climb beside him on the bed.

Till got rid of the rest of his clothes and turned to Richard, who had assumed his previous position – back on his heels with his legs spread and back arched. For a moment Till admired the view. He slipped his fingers under the collar and ran his hand down Richard’s throat, along his chest and stomach and lower, only just shying away from his cock. Richard’s hips jolted like they wanted to follow his hand, but he controlled himself and returned to waiting still, only his eyes betraying his urgency.

“Settle down,” Till said gently. “Whatever’s comfortable for you. And you can speak your mind now.”

For a moment Richard only stared at him, thrown off. Then he let go of the position tentatively, relaxing and stretching his arms.

“Fuck me,” was the first thing he said. Then Richard pulled Till to him by the leash Till was still holding and kissed him like his life depended on it. Only then did Till realize that whatever they had done, they had never kissed. They should have, and in his opinion they definitely should keep doing it, but Richard was the first to pull away, looking slightly wild-eyed. He reached into the bedside drawer and slapped a condom and a pack of lube on Till’s hand. “Fuck me. Fuck me now.”

And he added with a little crooked smile: “And you can keep telling me what to do.”

Till certainly wasn’t going to refuse such a request. Richard had got on all fours again, facing the headboard. He seemed to like that position, and it did him favors. The marks from the crop were still faintly visible.

“Fine by me,” Till said. “Get on your elbows, then. Arms above your head, keep your wrists crossed.”

“Hell yes,” Richard said and did as he was told, pressing his head down on the pillows and his ass up. Perfect.

In other circumstances Till might have played around a bit more, drawn it out, but he felt there had been more than enough of that already. He glanced at the leash still in his hand, then decided to tie it to the headboard in Richard’s view. Till didn’t waste much time as he pushed two lubed fingers into Richard, feeling him tense around them. 

“Fuck,” Richard hissed, “your fingers are fucking huge.”

“You wanna tell me what else is huge?” Till said as he moved his fingers. For all his grumbling, Richard was pressing back, working himself on his hand.

“Fuck you, Lindemann,” Richard ground out, but it ended up more of a moan than a curse.

“Not today,” Till said as he got a hold of Richard’s hips. “But it’s negotiable.”

The first push inside had Richard gripping his own wrist so hard the skin turned white and panting harshly into the pillows. He didn’t tell Till to stop, and Till kept pushing into the tight heat until his cock was all the way in. He felt the muscles contracting around him and held tightly onto Richard’s hips, resisting the urge to move. Clearly Richard didn’t do this often. That made it all the sweeter. Till reached up with one hand to stroke the damp hair at the back of Richard’s neck and slipped his fingers under the collar. He felt Richard relax instantly. Till took a good hold of the collar and braced his other hand on the headboard, leaning over Richard. He started to move tentatively. Small thrusts at first, trying to find out what worked.

Soon Richard was getting into it and moving together with him, setting up a rhythm for Till to follow. Despite all the words to the contrary, it was Till who had been following Richard’s lead all along. He didn’t mind. The give and take seemed to work for both of them. It was working for him, that was sure. He thrust into Richard with more force, having found an angle which had Richard making delightful noises. He pulled on the collar a little, just to see what would happen, and Richard moaned and pressed down, the leather digging into his throat. By then they were both so sex-hazed Till didn’t dare to take it further; Richard might not know when to stop. He was already out of breath, yet asking for more – harder, faster, tighter. It was driving Till crazy. He wouldn’t last long at this rate.

Till let go of the headboard and moved back so he could jerk Richard off while he fucked him. Despite being a demanding bastard, Richard had kept his hands where Till had ordered them, even when he was trembling with the need for release.

“Yesss,” Richard hissed and fucked into Till’s fist, and with a couple more thrusts he came all over the sheets. He went limp and fell on the mess, glassy-eyed and gasping for breath. Till let go of the collar and simply fucked him hard, making him moan and curse and wince as he was coming down from the high of his orgasm. Till knew Richard must be feeling it now, and perhaps he enjoyed the thought a bit too much. Finally Till came, cursing and pulling Richard’s hips flush with his. He stayed like that for a while, panting and staring into nothingness.

“Move it, you inconsiderate bastard,” he heard from under him, and he pulled out and rolled to the side. The sight of Richard, stretched out and freshly-fucked and leashed to the bed, with Till’s handprints still on him, made a spike of lust stab through Till despite his exhaustion. Richard unattached the leash from the collar nimbly with one hand.

“You could have done that at any time,” Till pointed out, propped on his side on one arm.

“Come on, you think they would have got anything hard to get out of for the show?” Richard scoffed. He grimaced as he realized he was laying on come-stained sheets and rolled closer to Till. Good thing the bed was wide enough.

“Point. So you just didn’t want to.”

“Hmm-mm.”

Till wasn’t sure what the protocol was for these kinds of situations. Should he get out, give Richard his space? That didn’t feel right, leaving him alone after something so intense. Richard was laying with his back to Till, so he pulled him closer and kissed the back of his neck where the collar had drawn a red circle. Richard shivered. He made no move to get away. Till put one arm around him, a strange feeling of protectiveness catching him by surprise. He ran a hand up Richard’s throat and touched the clasp of the collar.

Richard’s hand on his stopped him.

“Let it stay,” Richard said. “For now.” And as an afterthought he added, “You can stay, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I live on feedback so do comment if you feel so inclined ❤


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